


hang on to me tonight/stay close to me all day

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Phil Coulson, Childhood Memories, Coulson's Mom, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hair Braiding, Humor, Male-Female Friendship, Office, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sleeping Together, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9709256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Just a short fic for becketted for the VDay challenge.  Daisy is exhausted from working too hard and Coulson offers his help.  Title from the Mick Jagger song.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



"Fuck."

He doesn't say a word, just raises his eyebrow and stares fixedly at the monitor.

"Do you have a hair tie?"

His eyebrow lowers and he turns his neck to stare at her a few inches from his face.

"No," he replies under his breath, after a moment of looking at her, then glances to the side to see who's watching.

She puffs a stream of air from her mouth to blow at the wispy hairs falling into her face.

"I think I see your problem." He stands up from where he's bent over, his expression gone serious, then motions towards an agent who takes his place at the station.

"Coulson," she stops him with a hand on his arm. "You don't have to leave your station just to-"

"Coming?" he asks, and moves around her back into the corridor of the plane.

The engines hum with a steady hypnotic noise behind the walls as she follows him towards the office.

He closes the door behind them, and then gestures her to have a seat on the small sofa.

Then he slides his jacket off, down his arms, and folds it over the back of the chair.

"You seem like you need a break," he offers.

"I'm," she starts, about to stand up again, then sinks back down into the couch. "Fine."

"I told you, if you ever needed to talk. Or rest. What do you think I was doing when I spent all that time in my office?"

"Working?"

He shakes his head at her in disbelief. "Hair ties, though."

Moving around behind the desk, he opens and closes the drawers, looking through each of them.

"Does no one use rubber bands anymore?" he complains, shutting a final drawer.

She takes a deep breath and then yawns.

"How long have you been up?" he asks.

"Don kno," she mumbles through another yawn, covering her mouth.

"Paper clip," he says, like he has a bright idea and holds a finger up. He opens the drawer and then pulls two large ones out.

"What are you going to do with those?" she asks, as he comes to sit down on the couch next to her.

He starts to twist one with his fingers, holding the other in his palm.

"You can make them into hair clips."

"When did you learn that? From Agent Romanoff?"

"Agent Mommy," he smiles and concentrates until he hands her the one he's finished with, and starts on the other.

Coulson doesn't share about his family very often. They're not even alone much these days.

She gives him a happy sigh and then brushes the loose hairs back from her face again.

"What else did you learn from Agent Mommy?"

"The secret to the perfect grilled cheese," he says, nodding at her. "How to remove dark nail polish residue with toothpaste. And this."

He holds up the finished clip, bent into a heart shape.

"That's adorable."

"Oh, and braiding. I practiced on her," he says, pointing at her hair. "To keep her hair off her face all day while she worked."

"Are you going to braid my hair?" she jokes.

"Do you want me to?" He asks like the idea of offering hadn't even occurred to him.

'Yeah," she replies, when she realizes he's utterly serious, pressing the other heart shaped clip into his palm.

He looks at her curiously, as though he's trying to check her agreement, and then he shrugs an okay and sits back on the couch.

"You have to sit on the floor," he tells her, making room for her between his knees.

She moves down to the floor and sits up straight, then relaxes her shoulders when he tips her head up and then threads his fingers along the sides of her hair.

It starts to make her sleepy, the steady feeling of his fingers pulling against her scalp, threading gently through her hair, his occasional soft humming noise like he's working something out.

"Daisy," he says to her quietly, and she lifts her head to realize came to rest against his knee.

"Sorry," she says, wiping at her mouth to make sure she's not drooling on the leg of his jeans.

"Sit up here," he says, holding onto her hair so the braid won't come loose.

She crawls up into the seat beside him and turns her back to him so he can finish, already missing the warmth his leg had offered.

"You can stay in here if you want," he goes on, as he puts the clips in place at the nape of her neck. "Rest."

Her fingers pat along her head, feeling out the braid, but she finds herself turning back to look at him, until her knees have bumped against his.

"You look exhausted," he admits to her.

She knows he's not telling her what to do, but the fact that he feels the need to say it-

"Can you just talk to me?" she requests. "Until I fall asleep?"

The corner of his mouth turns up a little, but he slides an arm along the back of the sofa, crossing one leg over the other. "About what?"

She covers her mouth as she starts to yawn again, looking at his very inviting shoulder right there next to her.

"Dark nail polish," she goes on, with a silly smile., then leans her head on the couch, drawing her legs up close to her. "Were you goth?"

"No," he replies, as though he's a little scandalized. "I was into the punk scene. Or wanting to be, anyway."

"Was it for a girl?"

"Not a girl. James. Same sentiment, though. He was in a band."

"I should come into your office more often," she murmurs, closing her eyes and thinking vague thoughts about what James would look like.

"Was he nice like you?"

She doesn't hear him reply, but she feels the warmth of his shoulder against her face, and his fingers curl around her arm.

And pictures black polish on his hands.

  
###

  
She startles awake.

It's as much a habit as anything at this point, from waking up in different places, from falling asleep in an unfamiliar place.

Despite the warmth and the fact that she's asleep on Coulson.

She becomes careful of her movements, watching him breath evenly, his chin tucked against his chest.

Seeing his face untroubled like this makes her feel like she's spying on him.

It makes him somehow look younger, or maybe it's more vulnerable, she's trying to work it out.

They're touching, but it's a tenuous agreement, considering she fell asleep on him, and then he fell asleep, probably trapped by her.

His hand is resting on her shoulder, and she goes to touch his wrist to lightly move it, and fixes her eyes on his hands.

The idea of him being so young and eager, trying to be cool doesn't seem like so much of a stretch for some reason.

Comparing someone to your hot sports car tends to leave a certain kind of impression.

She sighs at the break of contact between their bodies, and then lifts his wrist and moves herself when she notices his eyes are open and he's watching her.

"You're awake."

"Yeah."

"Sorry I fell asleep on you," she starts to apologize.

"I think that was the point," he answers back with a rumbly tone in his voice.

"No, I mean, for literally, falling asleep on you," she tells him, putting her hands in her lap. "You could've just shoved me into a corner or something, I'm really hard to wake up."

"Daisy," he sighs. "It's okay."

She looks down and feels his fingertips brush against her palm, warm against her hand and her face gets hot almost immediately.

It's the sudden realization of where she would want this to go if circumstances were different.

The wash of unfairness that it's never as simple as wanting.

"I don't have a punk band, but I can quake stuff-" she starts to joke, giving him an easy exit.

"James was nice," he says, sitting up to be closer to her. She can feel the warmth radiating off of him. "Like you."

She stares into his blue eyes, then looks at the door to the office for a moment, thinking fleetingly about everything that's on the other side of it.

Then she closes the small distance between them.

She kisses him once.

Then again, just to be sure, and feels him wrap her back in his warmth, drawing her in close to him again.

He kisses her back like he's definitely sure.

 _Definitely_.

 


End file.
